


It's the Pink One, Right?

by rectificatory



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Drug Use, Dry Orgasm, Dubious Consent, Halloween, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rectificatory/pseuds/rectificatory
Summary: Just your classic tale of a trick or treating zombie, vampire and werewolf trying to decide which marshmallow has been spiked.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	It's the Pink One, Right?

“It’s got to be, right,” the zombie said, “it’s the gayest colour, and he wants one of us to get done in the butt, doesn’t he?”

“That’s too obvious,” the vampire retorted, rolling his eyes, “he put the pink one there so that one of us would say that, and choose a white one. Then it’s fifty-fifty who gets the dodgy one, instead of one-third.”

“But wouldn’t he have expected you to think that?” the werewolf said, pointing at the vampire, “So he would make it the pink one so you would choose it, especially if he wanted you to be the one who gets fu—I mean shagged?”

“You can say ‘fucked’ you know,” the zombie said with a cheeky grin.

“Ooh,” taunted the vampire, “the little kid knows some naughty words.”

“Shuddup,” the zombie barked, “You’re just picking on me ‘cause you’re too much of a scaredy-cat to get done in the butt!”

“You’re just a weirdo for liking things stuffed up your gross, stinky butt,” the vampire shouted back.

“Okay, settle down!” the werewolf said, trying to sound authoritative despite the crack in his voice, “We promised no butt-stuff for ‘Nosferatu’ over here if he got the spiked one.”

“Or cumming in my mouth,” the vampire said pointedly, “not that _he_ could do it, even if he tried.”

“Not cumming just means I’m gonna be fucking your face non-stop till you wake up,” the zombie said gleefully, a disturbingly devious grin spreading over his face, “and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do to stop me!”

T he zombie didn’t quite know what his sexuality was given his young age and relative inexperience, but if he was pushed he would have probably called himself pansexual; he just knew that he loved sex—whether it was being done to him, or he was doing it to someone else—and all that mattered was that everyone was enjoying themselves.

The vampire was avowedly straight, but would definitely stick his dick into the little kid’s mouth just to shut him up.  Finding out what a blowjob from a guy—or anyone actually, since he had never had any sexual escapades, except with his own hand—was like would undoubtedly be a  bonus, and a  weird  but interesting experience.

The werewolf was, by his own admission, ‘1000% gay’ and had been salivating over the two cute and sexy boys he found himself playing this little game with. He would have liked nothing more than to give the zombie unending dry orgasms, either by sucking his little cock, or shoving his tongue up his ‘gross, stinky butt’. His thoughts turned darker when considering the arrogant vampire, imagining using his skills to bring the boy to the edge of cumming, keep him there, make him beg for the dreaded ‘butt-stuff’, and then deny him that pleasure.

“This isn’t helping,” the werewolf told the younger boys, speaking over the vampire before he could get out his comeback, “let’s just figure this out first, okay?”

“Yeah,” the zombie agreed as he turned to the fourth person in the room, “can we pick them up and look at them?”

“A good question,” the man said, “you can, as long as you don’t damage them in any way.”

“See, it is the pink one!” the zombie said, picking up the pink marshmallow, and proudly displaying its underside to the other boys, “It’s been messed with, look!”

“No shit, Sherlock,” the vampire said, showing the youngster the bottom of the white marshmallow he chose.

“Ditto,” the werewolf said, mirroring the vampires action.

“Oh,” the zombie said, looking deflated as he registered that all three marshmallows had pin-prick holes in their bottoms.

T he man’s wager was simple: three marshmallows, one of which had been spike d with a drug that would make whoever consumed it compliant, horny, and open to the other twos suggestions for a few hours, during which time the three of them would engage in an orgy for the man’s pleasure.

“Well, whatever, I’m having the pink one,” the zombie said confidently.

“What? No you’re not!” the vampire argued.

“Okay,” the zombie said with a mocking grin, offering the marshmallow to the vampire, “you have the gay one then.”

“Shut up, it’s not gay,” the vampire said hotly, still mostly sure that the marshmallows colour was a ruse, and that it was one of the safe ones, “it’s just pink, and he’s trying to trick us.”

“Whatever,” the zombie said with a shrug, “as long as I get to suck, or get fucked by, by one or both of you, if I’m drugged up or not, I’m gonna have fun.”

“Ugh,” the vampire said, screwing his face up, “at least try to pretend that this stupid game is messed up.”

“Fine, it’s ‘messed up’,” the zombie admitted half-heartedly, snatching the white marshmallow from the vampires hand and offering the pink one to him, “and here, you can have the ‘totally-not-gay’ pink one.”

“Okay,” the vampire muttered, taking the pink marshmallow and looking at it warily.

“You should actually, probably switch,” the werewolf told the vampire, “it’s the Monty Hall problem.”

“What’s that?” asked the zombie.

“He means that if I have a choice of three things, and choose one,” the vampire said, trying to sound knowledgeable, “that I would have better odds if I switch.”

“Yeah,” said the Werewolf, “that’s right.”

“But that only works if I tell you which one of the others is a safe one,” the man interjected, “which I’m not going to do.”

“Carp, he’s right,” said the vampire, annoyed that he had forgotten that small detail.

“So, what do we do?” asked the werewolf, “Just pick one at random, and hope we get a good one?”

“I guess so,” the vampire said sullenly, “that’s our best bet, isn’t it. But I’m still having the pink one.”

“Fine with me,” the werewolf said.

“Me too!” the zombie called out.

“On three then?” the man told the boys, indicating that they should eat their chosen marshmallows, “One, two, three…”

The man smiled as the boys swallowed the sweets, wondering why none of them had ever considered the possibility that all the marshmallows were drugged.


End file.
